


like a love story

by terrasensqueen



Category: Original Work
Genre: 5+1 Things, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Romance, i wrote this cause i am lonely, self-insert-ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 15:54:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29156148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terrasensqueen/pseuds/terrasensqueen
Summary: You like her laugh, you think. The lilting cadence that fills up her soul and flows out through her mouth. The way she smiles so brightly, the way her brown-red glossed lips stretch so far to reveal slightly crooked teeth. Her eyes shine in the light of the lamps that hang above you in the cafeteria, her hand stays on the cold table with a fork clenched loosely in her grip, but you think for a moment that maybe you were the reason behind the sparkle in her eyes.You like how she understands your jokes, your vague book, movie, comic references, how she gets your impassioned rants on superheroes and ships and what fanfiction you’re reading at the moment.
Relationships: Original Female Character & Original Male Character, Original Female Character/Original Female Character
Kudos: 3





	like a love story

**Author's Note:**

> this is basically everything i want in a romance for myself, okay. and because i will never find anyone as perfect as this, i just wrote this out.

v.

You like her laugh, you think. The lilting cadence that fills up her soul and flows out through her mouth. The way she smiles so brightly, the way her brown-red glossed lips stretch so far to reveal slightly crooked teeth. Her eyes shine in the light of the lamps that hang above you in the cafeteria, her hand stays on the cold table with a fork clenched loosely in her grip, but you think for a moment that maybe you were the reason behind the sparkle in her eyes.

You like how she understands your jokes, your vague book, movie, comic references, how she _gets_ your impassioned rants on superheroes and ships and what fanfiction you’re reading at the moment.

She grabs her phone and searches up the stories you talk about, goes to the bookmark page on her profile to find the story that you bookmarked just for her because you think that she’ll like it and _smiles_.

That smile brightens your day. She passes tons of it daily, throws them out like they don’t mean anything, but on those days when your spirits feel down and your head feels heavy and you don’t know why you bother doing what you do, those smiles give you a reason to forget about all that.

Depending on someone like that probably isn’t healthy, but you know _think_ that she’s like the sun. An energy source that goes on forever, longer than your own feeble lifespan, still burning when you’ve all but crumbled into dust.

iv.

The way her hair falls in her face. It comes into your mind in a random flash during class as you’re scrambling to solve the equation written on the board, your ankles crossed and the hard tip of your combat boot pressed against the linoleum floor. Your attention catches on the way the light that filters through the wall-length windows bounces off her hair and reflects out in a flurry of different colors — pale tawny, light umber, strands of copper gold

You drop your head and stare back down at your paper. The lines, the flaky roughness, the gray of your pencil graphite.

 _Breathe_ , you think. Breathe and forget about what you feel.

iii.

It’s fine when it’s friendship, you think.

When it’s friendship, you can think about her laugh, and how she bakes cookies out of boxes and ends up eating half the dough.

When it stops being just that, you reign in your feelings.

You pretend they don’t exist.

(You said you didn’t care about what others thought when you came out a lifetime ago. You know you do.)

ii.

He notices, of course. As your other self-proclaimed best friend, he’s known you since you both were five, grinning wildly with your hair tangled in messy knots and mud staining the cotton of your clothes.

He doesn’t say anything, but his face tightens when you say nothing.

“You have to tell her someday,” he tells you quietly, amber skin shining in the golden sunlight.

You nod half-heartedly, letting lies fall from your lips. There’s no way you’ll ever admit anything.

(A part of you wants to.)

i.

You’re watching a movie, the homework finished, your forms tangled together under a blanket like it’s second nature as you watch Marion Cotillard die in a spectacularly awful way.

“That death scene sucks,” she says, her words a comfortable vibration that travels from her throat to your head. You’re positioned under her, her chin on your shoulder, your body burrowed up against her.

It’s a spur of the moment thing, when you tilt your head up, look at her, and ask, “Can I kiss you?”

Her reply comes with soft lips pressed quickly against your own and a nervous, excited glint in her pale eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> also, ask before you kiss someone, folks, because it might seem romantic in movies and books but _consent is key_


End file.
